Yu kant analize a kiss enny more than yu kan the breath ov a flower. Yu kant tell what makes a kiss taste so good enny more than yu kan a peach.
Enny man who kan set down, whare it is cool, and tell how 63 a kiss tastes, haint got enny more real flavor tew his mouth than a knot hole haz. Such a phellow wouldn’t hesitate tew deskribe Paridise as a fust rate place for gardin sass.
The only way tew diskribe a kiss is tew take one, and then set down, awl alone, out ov the draft, and smack yure lips.
If yu kant satisfy yureself how a kiss tastes without taking another one, how on arth kan you define it tew the next man.
I hav heard writers talk about the egstatick bliss thare waz in a kiss, and they really seemed tew think they knew all about it, but these are the same kind ov folks who perspire and kry when they read poetry, and they fall to writing sum ov their own, and think they hav found out how.
I want it understood that I am talking about pure emotional kissing, that is born in the heart, and flies tew the lips, like a humming bird tew her roost.
I am not talking about your lazy, milk and molasses kissing, that daubs the face ov enny body, nor yure savage bite, that goes around, like a roaring lion, in search ov sumthing to eat.
Kissing an unwilling pair ov lips, iz az mean a viktory, az robbin a bird’s nest, and kissing too willing ones iz about az unfragant a recreation, az making boquets out ov dandelions.
The kind ov kissing that I am talking about iz the kind that must do it, or spile.
If yu sarch the rekords ever so lively, yu kant find the author ov the first kiss; kissing, like mutch other good things, iz anonymous.